


Filthy

by virberos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ashe makes a Cameo, Clothed Sex, Deadlock Gang, Deadlock Jesse McCree, Dirty Talk, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Overstimulation, Teasing, Wall Sex, collaring, risky sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 16:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18196685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virberos/pseuds/virberos
Summary: Lady Cassandra Destler should’ve expected the leader of a Southwestern heist gang to have the filthiest mouth this side of the Atlantic.





	Filthy

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to FuryEclipse for helping with dialogue

Cassandra Destler stared out the window of the train, the American Southwest speeding by. Her sundress, a warm sunset orange hue artistically covered with yellow and orange desert flowers and white lace-like patterns, matched the aesthetic of the Southwest perfectly. The silver bracers of House Destler glimmered in the light, resting comfortably on her wrists. The car she was in was empty, a surge of people having left at the previous stop. Her mind wandered as she rode, they weren’t going to reach California for two more hours and she had exhausted all of her options for entertainment, minus letting her mind wander. She watched as wild mustangs rode below the train before it sped into an expansive valley. She faintly heard a mumble of Deadlock Gorge from the seat behind her, perhaps the name of the area they were passing over?  

 

‘ _ And now _ ’ The PA system rang, earning an eyebrow raise from the lady. ‘ _ We tune into the radio of Deadlock Gorge. _ ’ A song about a pale rider began to play.

 

‘ _ That’s odd… _ ’ Cassandra thought. ‘ _ Normally that doesn’t happen. _ ’ An uneasy feeling began to rise in her gut, causing her to shift nervously. There was also the fact she was almost all alone in the car. 

 

And then it stopped. Suddenly so.

 

“Oof!” She grunted as the sudden stop sent her into the seat in front of her. “The hell?” She looked out the window, trying to see what was going on but only seeing the gorge below. She leaned back, hoping that it was just some birds sitting on the track that sent the train into it’s sudden stop. 

 

The train shook, as if someone or something had landed on it. Cassandra quickly realized there was nowhere to hide, not fast enough. The only thing she could hope for was that her cart wasn’t the one attacked. She heard footsteps above, her breath bated, before the emergency latch opened. Something was thrown inside, seeping gas. She coughed as the sickly scent wafted through the train. Her body felt heavy as she slid off the chair and onto the floor. She faintly heard footsteps, a woman’s voice, before unconsciousness claimed her. 

 

* * *

 

“Nng…” Cassandra blinked awake. Her gaze met her hands, tied up with rope. She looked down, seeing that she was resting on a dry dull cot. She slowly sat up, finding herself in a cell. Across her was graffiti with the only words she could make being Deadlock Rebels.

 

Wait, Deadlock Rebels!?

 

A rush of panic came to her at the name. The Deadlock Rebels were one of the most prolific heist gangs in the American Southwest! Their heists were as legendary as their lack of mercy to anybody on the side of the law...or anyone who ratted them out to the law. 

 

_ ‘They must have planned to heist my train! For what, I’d rather not find out.’ _ She looked down to her hands.  _ ‘It was just a civilian train...right?’ _

 

“Ey, nice to see you’ve woken up.” Came a voice, female and familiar. Cassandra looked up, her gaze meeting red eyes. The woman on the other side of the bars was dressed in black, her white hair an asymmetrical bob. She squinted a little.

 

“Who are you?” Cassandra asked warily, watching the leather-garbed too-familiar stranger. 

 

“Aww, you don’t recognize me?” She cooed. Cassandra frowned.

 

“I’m still waking up from that gas you used. Jog my memory, stranger.” Cassandra said. The woman scoffed before glancing up, as if hearing something from somewhere else. 

 

“I’d like to keep this conversation goin’ but I’m afraid the boss wants to see what we got.” Cassandra stiffened at her words. She wanted to go tell this ‘boss’ to go eat his words but, given the situation she was in, she bit her tongue. The cell door opened and the woman entered, taking her bound hands and leading her out of the cell. Cassandra followed, her posture stiff and trying to look as much of a lady as she was. She would not show her enemies anything that would not be fitting of her title. That did not, however, soothe her terrified heart. Was this boss going to be as cruel as the reputation of the Deadlock Rebels implied? She would have to pull on all of her skill in negotiation in order to not come out a dead man.  

 

As the door opened, she noticed the man sitting on a makeshift throne of boxes and worn green tapestry. She raised an eyebrow and glanced to the woman. The man was humming along with the radio, playing a song about a pale rider, the same song from the train before it was beset by the Deadlock Rebels. Cassandra silently mused at how that song would be caught in her head if and when all of this was said and done. In his hand was a burning cigarillo, the smoke floating upward lazily in the air. Cassandra noticed a gun nestled in the holster on his hip. 

 

“Jesse, she’s awake.” The woman said. Cassandra swallowed the lump in her throat. Jesse McCree, the leader of Deadlock, was sitting across from her. The man glanced over to her.

 

“So it seems.” He mused, deep brown eyes looking upon her like a predator assessing his prey. Cassandra met his gaze bravely. He chuckled as he got up to approach her.  “I got this Ashe. Mind waitin’ outside?” Cassandra blinked and looked to Ashe.

 

“Wait...Elizabeth?” Cassandra whispered, watching her leave the room with a knowing smile. The door closed behind her, leaving Cassandra all alone with one of the most dangerous men in the Southwest. How peachy.

 

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty. Seems you were out for a while there.” Jesse drawled, earning back her attention. 

 

“No thanks to your gang.” She hissed, standing up straight. “Why would the Deadlock Rebels attack a civilian train?” She asked, her voice cold. Jesse laughed.

 

“Simple. Somebody was on that train that deserted us. We took care of him.” Cassandra repressed a shiver that came at his words. “And you, little missy, are really just a bonus.”

 

“You want to ransom me back to my family.” He shrugged lazily at her accusation. 

 

“Guilty as charged, sweetpea. Not everyday that you get some heiress involved in yer assassination plans.” 

 

“No, I didn't get involved. I was knocked out and dragged here. Your gang is the perpetrators in this scenario.” Cassandra pointed out. 

 

“Tch, details.” He waved his hand dismissively, taking another drag out of his cigarillo. 

 

“How did someone as lazy as you become worthy of a sixty-million dollar reward for your head?” 

 

“How did an heiress like you still tolerate your family tossin’ you away to them fancy dancin’ schools?” He smirked. Cassandra took a step back, surprised that he knew that about her. The facade of control broke for just a moment. “What’s the matter, cat got yer tongue? I’m smart enough to do my homework on the people that happen to fall into my lap.” He took another step, closer to her. “And you, pumpkin, are worth more alive than dead.”

 

“I’m afraid to ask how much.” Cassandra breathed before shaking her head. 

 

“Hmm...how ‘bout sixty million? Probably just as much as all those fees those fancy dancin’ schools pile up to at the end of the day.”  

 

“And what if I refuse?” Cassandra asked. “What if I try to es-” With a swift motion, Cassandra found herself face to face with the end of his gun. 

 

“You wanna keep goin’ with that train of thought, Destler? I’d hate to ruin such a pretty songbird’s face before Mummy and Daddy can pay the ransom.”

 

“...not particularly.” 

 

“Good.” The gun was sheathed back into its hostler. “Anythin’ else?” 

 

“How long do you expect to keep me here?” She noticed his hand twitch before he seemed to think better of it. 

 

“As long as needed to get a reply.” He stepped back. “Don’t worry your pretty little head none, we’ll take good care of you.” 

 

“Considering who you are, those words do not comfort me.” Cassandra retorted cooly. Jesse laughed. 

 

“Ashe!” The door opened. “Take her back. I’ve got a note to write.” With that, Ashe took her out of his office. Cassandra wondered what he did to earn Ashe’s trust. She knew her as Elizabeth, a somewhat familiar face and troubled youth. She half-expected Ashe to take the lead, considering her background, unless something Jesse did made her into a sort of deputy role to the Deadlock Rebels. Once back in her cell, Ashe undid her hands. 

 

“Guess you’re staying here for a while.” She tipped her hat. “It ain’t all bad.”

 

“I’m not comforted by that.” 

 

“Suit yerself.” Ashe shrugged and left, leaving Cassandra to muse over his words.

 

* * *

 

In the cell, Cassandra found herself once again resting on her cot. The only way she had to figure out the passage of days were by her meals. They certainly weren’t the best meals but they were food and Cassandra didn’t dare complain about it. She had spent about three days here, nine meals of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and she wondered when and if her parents would respond. 

 

The least she could do was sing. Her mind wandered back to the song of the pale rider.

 

“So get your gun, and kiss your wife, and lock up your daughter.” She sang softly, gaze at the wall. “Don't let her fall in love with the pale rider.”

 

“Ain’t that lovely.” Came a familiar voice. “That’s my favorite song.” Cassandra looked over, seeing Jesse leaning against the wall on the other side of her bars. Thinking back to her last meal, a dinner meal, it must’ve been late for him to visit. She sat up to face him. 

 

“It played on the train here. And it was on the radio when we first met. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve presumed it to be a calling card for the Deadlock Rebels.” Jesse laughed at her words.

 

“Nah, it ain’t. Don’t have control over the radio and I’d rather not have our presence announced on the radio, callin’ card or otherwise.” 

 

“What would you do if you did have control over the radio?” Cassandra asked.

 

“That’s easy. Country, all day every day. And none of that pop-country shit.” He spat at that. “Johnny Cash and those guys, that’s my jam.” 

 

“Hm...I’m afraid I don’t really have anything I’d do. Just the same as usual.” 

 

“You wouldn’t try to promote your stuff?” Jesse tilted his head a bit.

 

“No, that’d be forcing what I do down the throats of others. It’d be rude.” Cassandra got up and walked over to the bars, leaning against the wall. “And then I would be resented for doing so.” 

 

“Aw, you’re cute being all noble like that.” He grinned. “And here I thought you’d end up being as bitter as hardtack.” 

 

“What good does being bitter do?” She asked him. He shrugged. “If I wanted bitter, I could really turn on the whine and complain about every little thing here.” Her eyes glanced down to the gun at his hip. “But I won’t. Because I know better, especially now that you’re here.” 

 

“Smart.” He leaned forward. “What else ain’t ya?” 

 

“Free.” Her gaze met his, steady but silently pleading for her freedom. A quiet fell between them before he chuckled.

 

“If you think battin’ those pretty blues of yours is gonna get ya outta here, you got another thing comin’.” Cassandra frowned at his words.

 

“Damn, at least I tried.” She sighed. “How many other people tried the whole ‘bat your eyes to freedom’ trick?”

 

“Not a lot, surprisingly.” He shrugged. “But Deadlock don’t get a bunch of hostages held here.” 

 

“Probably because you have to feed and quarter them. And the meals certainly aren’t the best.” 

 

“What were you expectin’, caviar?” He paused. “That sounds fuckin’ disgustin’, by the way.”

 

“I am not fond of caviar myself.” She made a face at the thought. “But then again, I am picky when it comes to seafood.” 

 

“Aren’t you rich types picky as hell?” Jesse asked, tilting his head a little. If it was any other situation, she would’ve found it cute. 

 

“I mean, I certainly know some who are...ahem, picky as hell, as you said.” She found a brief thrill in swearing but ignored it. “And they will upturn the earth to get their way. Just like my sister…” 

 

“Hmm?” Jesse leaned forward, obviously interested now. He moved to lean against the bars. “Tell me more about this sis of yours, sugar.”  

 

“Why?” 

 

“You obviously got some shit to say. And I’m the only one here to hear it.” He cocked his head at her. “Go on. I’m listenin’” Cassandra stared at him, trying to figure out what his motive was. The silence stretched on as Cassandra considered his words. Finally she let out a sigh.

 

“I...I don’t know her too well. I only go home a couple months out of the year. She went to theater school instead, something about being an actress. House Destler, when not being winemakers, has produced a fair amount of artisans of many fields. Me and my sister are to be no different.” 

 

“And you like that?”

 

“Well, I’m good at it. What’s there to say. But my sister...she’s perfect for the silver screen. She looks all nice and sweet but God have mercy if you cross her.”

 

“So she’s a two-faced bitch. Gotcha. If I ever meet her, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

 

“If you ever meet her. Keep your head out of the clouds.” She reached over in an attempt to pull his hat down. The Deadlock leader took her wrist quickly, a tight grip. Any humor in his gaze was replaced with a simmering anger, a dangerous gaze that put her in her place.

 

“Didn’t yer parents teach you to keep yer hands to yourself?” His voice gained an edge, something Cassandra noticed. “Nobody touches the hat.” He slowly let go of her wrist. She took her hand back, watching him warily. “Rich people…” He grumbled. “Don’t give two flying fucks about permission.” 

 

“...sorry.” She said softly, looking away from him. Of course, she forgot exactly who she was dealing with. Jesse just seemed so lackadaisical, it was too easy to forget that this man was a leader of one of the most prolific gangs in the Southwest. 

 

“So, ‘bout your sis…” He was fishing for her to keep talking, she could tell. “What do you know about her?”

 

“She’s a terrible spoiled brat, last I remember her. But that was...erugh, a couple years ago. The time we do spend at the family estate doesn’t line up like they used to. But I do remember Mother and Father always doting on her successes more than mine.”

 

“That’s shitty.” 

 

“Yeah...it kinda is. I’m used to it.” She shrugged. “I’m the good girl and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

 

“Says the girl who got involved in our little thing.”

 

“I did not get involved, good sir. You made me involved. There’s a difference.”

 

“Good? I’m not good. Not bad either. But I do like the respect.” He purred. If she had to guess, he probably got off on being called sir. “You learn quick hun. Maybe I might forgive that little grab for the hat if you keep that up.” 

 

“And if I don’t?” 

 

“Hmm…” He feigned thoughtfulness. “There’s a bunch of ways I could make you learn respect. Spanking, fucking, making you into my little kitten...oh, maybe into my own personal waitress?” His gaze moved downward. “I’d love to see those lovely legs of yours.” Cassandra glanced away. “I’d definitely collar you, that pretty little neck of yours would look lovely with some leather on it.” 

 

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” She asked, moving to lean against the bars. Jesse grinned at her.

 

“I’d like hearing you scream my name when I pound respect into you.” Cassandra let out a huff and pulled him close, lips meeting his in a kiss. She tasted the smoke of his cigarillo on his lips. She felt a hand rest on her hip, the other holding her head steady. He nipped her lip, earning a soft squeak. He took the chance, his tongue darting inside. She let out a noise of surprise, unable to fight against him. After a few moments, she pushed him back carefully, staring at the leader of the Deadlock Rebels with her face burning red. On his face, instead of a surprise, it was a wolfish grin with a hungry lust in his eyes. His tongue darted out a bit to lick his lips.

 

“You have the filthiest mouth this side of the Atlantic.” Cassandra breathed.

 

“Thank you kindly.” He purred. “Yours is the prettiest. Bet it’ll sound even prettier screamin’ my name.”

 

“You’re the worst man I’ve ever met, Jesse McCree.”  _ ‘Why do I want you to keep going though?!’ _ Jesse tipped his hat at her.

 

“Your blush says otherwise, pumpkin.” With a laugh, he left her to her thoughts and her rapidly reddening face. 

 

* * *

 

Cassandra could only stare at the wall, the letter and Jesse’s note trembling in her hand. Jesse had taken her, personally escorted her in fact, to his office to see the letter, the response to his ransom note and his demand of sixty million dollars.

 

Her family denied any knowledge of her. In effect, they claimed she never existed. Cassandra, however, knew that they had tossed her aside for Carmina. It was always her, she was the prodigal child, the star in their eyes. Cassandra wondered why she even held out hope they would pay for her return. It hurt more to even deny that she lived, to basically lie to the Deadlock Rebels. Her name was plastered on playbills, for heaven’s sake! They knowingly, willingly even, denied any connection to her! It ripped at her, she wanted to cry and scream and rage but, given who she was in the room in, she did not.

 

Jesse was sitting at his little throne, watching her carefully. The warm air that hung in the office seemed to become cold. The silence between them stretched on, Cassandra mulling over the contents of the letter. Finally, she turned to Jesse.

 

“Now what will you do? You’re not getting your money, effectively speaking.” She said, her voice a sad deadpan. “What point would there be to keeping me around?” 

 

“Well, there is one thing I like about rich folk: They always forget to read the fine print. Now go on little birdie, read what it says.” Jesse chuckled, as if reacting to a humorous joke. Cassandra glanced to him in confusion before returning her gaze to the papers in her hands. Shifting the papers to the ransom note, she squinted at the fine print. Scanning the words, she quickly noticed that their rejection of the ransom gave the Deadlock Rebels (and associated gangs, which surprised her. She thought the Deadlock Rebels were the only major gang in the Southwest) free reign on any and all shipments of House Destler wines and grapes. 

 

“So basically, for not paying up, your men get to harass anyone shipping the goods my family provides.”

 

“Yes indeedy.” 

  
“...guess you’ll get some damn good wine then.” Cassandra mused. “But what about me?” 

 

“What about you…” The man mused. Cassandra heard him get up and walk behind her, each step heavy with purpose. Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut, tensing up as she awaited the click of a cocked gun. She felt his hands slide onto her sides. “Babydoll, why are you so tense?” His voice was directly in her ear, she had to resist a shiver.

 

“...I’m waiting for you to blow my brains out.”

 

“Oh, you think so cruelly of me.” He let out a husky drawl. “Why would I ever do that?”

 

“Well, I figure that as soon as my usefulness ran out, I’d be executed for being dead weight. Nobody becomes the leader of a prolific heist gang without being cruel.” Cassandra pointed out. 

 

“I may run a tight ship, little birdie, but that doesn’t mean I can’t relax. And I think you need to relax too.” He leaned down, Cassandra felt his hands slide down to rub at her hips, and nuzzled at her neck. She shivered, feeling his scruffy beard tickle the skin. His lips gently pressed against the skin as he pulled her away from the wall she was staring at and to the throne of boxes and cloth. He sat down, taking her with him. He had her straddling his lap, her dress scrunching up and exposing her legs. Leaning back, he took the papers out of her hand and tossed them aside lazily. His gaze moved down, his gloved hands riding them up to expose her thighs. He let out a low whistle, earning a blush from Cassandra. 

 

“You perv!” 

 

“And you like it.” He rubbed her thighs. “You love me and my filthy mouth.” He took the strap that held up her dress and pulled it over her head. With a swift motion, he pulled down the fabric before she realized what he was doing. Her face burned bright red from his action, quickly reaching up to cover her now bare chest.

 

“What if we get caught?” She asked with nervous breathlessness. He laughed. 

 

“The gang knows better than to interrupt me when I’m doing business. And right now, this is business.” 

 

“What kind of business?” 

 

“Mine, and that’s all that matters sweetpea.” He shot forward, suckling and biting at the skin of her neck. She let out a surprised moan, shaking as he groped and rubbed her body. He laughed at her surprise before continuing to assault her neck with bruising bites and rough kisses. His hand took her wrists and pulled them down, the other still keeping her steady on his lap. His lips moved down to take a nipple in his mouth, nipping and suckling the sensitive bud. Cassandra shuddered visibly. 

 

“Jesse, you...oh you!” She whined, her words dissolving into moans from Jesse’s too-skilled mouth. And all he had done was strip her and bite! She shuddered and trembled, resting her head against Jesse’s hat. “You are...by far...ah, the worst I’ve met!”

 

“Says you, currently moaning on my lap.” He looked up at her. “My my, ain’t that a cute face for you?” His hand pushed her dress off the rest of her body, sending it to the floor in a pool of warm colors. “Aren’t I a lucky man…” He murmured, his gaze wandering up and down her exposed body. Cassandra looked away, her face burning from the salacious tone of his words. Jesse slapped her thigh, causing her to jump. 

 

“Jesse!” 

 

“Yes, sugarcube?” He drawled. That southern twang in his voice made whatever she was going to say die in her throat. She looked away.

 

“You’re the absolute worst…” She mumbled. He laughed, his hand playing with the band of her panties. “And you haven’t even let me see what you’re...er...packing, as they say.” 

 

“All in due time, pumpkin.” He teased before ripping them off. She yelped as they were torn off, along with the realization that she was fully exposed for the leader of the Deadlock Rebels. Her face was a deep red from that realization. He pulled off his gloves, tossing them aside with the same lack of care as with the papers. His fingers rubbed her entrance, thumb slowly rubbing at the clit. Cassandra squirmed on his lap, the pleasure new and strange to her. It was strange in a good way, considering how good she felt as a finger plunged into her. She whined and trembled as Jesse thrusted his finger into her. A second finger quickly followed. She began to move her hips on his fingers.

 

“That’s it, little songbird…” He murmured, grinning as she bounced on his fingers. “Lemme hear you.” 

 

“Jesse you are…” She panted out. 

 

“The worst man you’ve ever met?” He asked, a light mocking in his voice. “And yet you love it.” He thrust in a third finger, earning a pleasured gasp from her. “You love it when I whisper filthy little words into your ears. I can tell you’re enjoying this, you like bein’ manhandled, you like it when I talk dirty to you, and how you like it when I tease.” He thrust his fingers in for emphasis, learning a squeak of pleasure.  “Now how about you let me hear your lovely voice, Cassandra.” Cassandra felt her heart race at how her name sounded with his drawl. 

 

“Y-Yes sir…” She breathed out before letting out shy moans as she moved her hips on his fingers. She noticed Jesse beaming at her.

 

“That’s it...good girl.” He murmured. She moaned as she kept moving her hips, nearing her first orgasm. And then Jesse pulled out his fingers, earning a needy whine from her. Her gaze met his, a gaze of hunger meeting her need. He undid his pants and pushed them down, the dark brown leather crumpling to the floor beneath them. She heard him kick the clothing aside, perhaps to be picked up whenever morning came. She glanced down to his cock, obviously throbbing in arousal. He moved her hips to line up the tip of his cock with her entrance. She slowly slid down, shivering at the intrusion. With his preparation, Cassandra shuddered in pleasure as it slid comfortably inside her. 

 

“Jesse...Jesse sir I…” Cassandra murmured, breath stolen by a rush of emotions and pleasure inside her. 

 

“My my, cat got yer tongue?” He hummed pridefully. She chuckled breathlessly before beginning to ride him.

 

“No...i mean, yes...it’s just…my first.” She admitted breathlessly. “It feels good, you know?”

 

“Well then sugar, just keep doin’ what feels right.” The cowboy hummed. Cassandra swore she saw a softness in his eyes for a brief moment before a hard thrust from his hips took her attention off them. She wrapped an arm around him, pushing his face into a breast. Taking the hint, he suckled on the nipple happily. His free hand reached down and played with her clit. It was enough to send her over the edge, clamping down on him as she reached her limit. The cowboy let out a chuckle.

 

“What’s...so funny?” She breathed out. 

 

“You just looked so cute, blissed out on my cock.” He hummed, rolling his hips upward. Her face went bright red at his lewd words. “I’d like to see that face again.” He thrusted hard for emphasis. “Again.” Another hard thrust, his voice getting huskier. “And again.” A final thrust as she felt him fill her with warmth. She glanced to him, a sort of competitive hunger beginning to stir, before she began to move her hips again. 

 

“Then let’s get to it...shall we, sir?” She asked, a soft grin on her face. “Because there’s no way you’ll let me leave, right?” She let out a gasp as he smacked her thigh again.

 

“No way, no how sweetpea.” His grin widened at her. She kept moving her hips, trying to find a faster pace. Her hands moved to caress his face, entangling themselves in his beard. Tilting his face up ever so gently, she pressed her lips against his. The taste of smoke was more of a comfort now, something she sought out instead of shied away from. A nip to her bottom lip made her open up, feeling Jesse’s tongue dart inside and take advantage of her permission. She pressed against him, hungering for more of his rough love. It did not escape Jesse’s notice, she presumed, as she felt his warmth fill her again, followed by an orgasm of her own. She barely had time to process Jesse hoisting her up and pushing her against the wall. She wrapped her arms around him tightly.

 

“T-Tired of me giving you a ride?” She asked. He laughed.

 

“I believe it’s my turn to give you a ride, pumpkin.” 

 

“I must confess, I’m surprised you still have the energy.” 

 

“But will you?” He hummed before he began to roughly thrust into her. Cassandra gasped in surprise before moaning, burying her face into his neck. The cowboy let out a grunt as he kept thrusting. “Come on sweetpea, lemme hear you.”

 

“Jesse!” She gasped, her grip tightening on him. 

 

“Fuck, you feel good.” He growled into her neck. “You’re all mine, ain’t nobody gonna take you from me.” Cassandra shivered at the possessiveness in his tone. In a way, he was right. If her own family wouldn’t take her back, then being with Jesse (and getting her brains fucked out of her) was the next best thing. He certainly made a case for staying with Deadlock. 

 

“Yours, Jesse!” Cassandra gasped. “Y-You make me feel so good!” 

 

“Damn right I do.” He purred, biting into her neck. “And I’ll be the only man who’ll do this to you.” He sucked harshly, ensuring a lovebite in the morning. His thrusts became erratic and harsh, Cassandra got the feeling he would cum again soon. 

 

“Jesse!” Her grip tightened on him. He bit again as his third load shot inside her. His hand moved to roughly rub at her clit, earning a final orgasm from her. Cassandra buried her face in his broad shoulder, trembling as her overstimulated body finally calmed down. She could feel her thighs burn from his smacks. She felt Jesse carry her somewhere, to where she didn’t see. A door opened and she felt her body being laid down on something soft. Glancing around, she realized she was in a bed. A rather simple one, but comfy. Was this his personal bedroom? She watched him move to flip on a light before to what looked to be a closet, trying to stay awake while her exhausted body begged her to slip into sweet slumber. He opened the door and pulled out something. He turned away from the closet to her, she saw a collar on his hand.

 

“Jesse you...ahh...kinky bastard.” She yawned. He tutted at her.

 

“Language, little lady.” He scolded as he walked to her. He wrapped the collar around her neck. “There we go…” He murmured reverently, stepping back to look down upon her like he won her as a prize. She let out a sigh.

 

“Go to bed Jesse…” She murmured, curling up on the covers. She closed her eyes, listening to Jesse undress properly before sliding up next to her, pulling her under the covers. He pulled her close, she felt his warm arms wrap around her. She rested her head against his chest. Lulled by his heartbeat, it did not take her long to slip into slumber. 

 

* * *

 

It had been roughly six months since Cassandra’s arrival at the Deadlock Complex. In that time, the gang had accepted her presence as the gang mother. She did her best to help out of the day to day matters of the gang, cooking and repairing clothes. Despite the fact that the Deadlock Rebels were a criminal heist gang, there was a sort of normalcy in taking care of it’s rough and rowdy members. 

 

It was the sort of strange normalcy that Cassandra ended up loving. She didn’t have to practice hours on end to perfect a dance or worry about making deadlines for a show or anything of the sort. She had to admit, taking care of one of the largest heist gangs in the Southwest was its own kind of stress, but it was a very different stress than perfection in front of thousands upon thousands of pairs of eyes. 

 

And then there was Jesse McCree. Almost always on her back was always an oversized and very warm jacket with his surname emblazoned on the back. The jacket had other patches too, of the Deadlock Rebels insignia and various desert flowers that some members worked painstakingly to get just right in appreciation of her. She fought tooth and nail with Jesse to keep the patches on. Not to mention, around her neck was a more damning sign of ownership: a leather collar branded with the winged skull of the Deadlock Gang and a tag with the engraving of ‘property of Jesse McCree’ dangling from the metal ring. The first few days being collared felt...strange, to say it mildly. It was almost salacious to have it around her neck like she was a kitten that just got adopted. But as time went on, she found herself not minding the collar as much. 

 

Over the course of her time here in the Deadlock Complex, when she wasn’t taking care of the Deadlock Rebels’ day-to-day operations, she was learning as well. Mostly how to handle Jesse, the wildcard leader of the Deadlock Rebels. He had taught her how to shoot, which she appreciated, and how to respect weaponry (which she also appreciated, figuring that out by how Jesse treated his prized revolver Peacekeeper). She had no weapon of her own yet but she knew her way around revolvers. She preferred them to the rifles like Ashe had. 

 

One morning, Cassandra awoke to an empty bed. That was no surprise, there were some days that Jesse had to wake up early for Deadlock business. Perhaps he wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed? She smiled at the thought, reaching over to hug his pillow and inhale the scent of smoke and leather. She stayed there for a few moments before getting up to get dressed.  

 

As she got dressed, she faintly heard the sound of talking. Jesse’s bedroom was a short walk to his office. From what she heard, some business was going on with him and a female stranger. It wasn’t Ashe, not from the sounds of it. Her curiosity got the better of her as she wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. Carefully stepping out of the bedroom into the office, she noticed who exactly Jesse was talking to. 

 

Her sister, Carmina Abigail Destler. 

 

Everything about her sister was perfect, flawless, immaculate. Her snow-white business suit, not at all dusty from the desert wind, made her like a beacon in the dull room. Behind her were three Deadlock thugs, who seemed to have escorted her to Jesse. Jesse was sitting on a proper throne, emblazoned with the insignia of the Deadlock Rebels (not that she could see the insignia from her position) and sipping on some expensive white wine. She knew he kept the first box of shipment from House Destler, a keepsake of the rejection of his demands. He set the glass down. 

 

“So, you want to negotigate about your stuff being swiped?” He drawled. Fury burned in Cassandra’s heart. Now House Destler wanted to negotiate!? After six months of claiming she didn’t exist!? She wouldn’t allow it. She stormed to Jesse’s side, ripped Peacekeeper from the revolver before he could react, and aimed. She fired, the bullet going through Carmina’s arm. The Deadlock thugs looked quite surprised at Cassandra’s sudden fury.  

 

The quiet that followed was tense, Carmina clinging onto her wounded arm. Blood bloomed from the wound, staining the arm sleeve red. Cassandra was breathing heavily, the gravity of what she had just done, the gun she was holding in her hand, settling in. She carefully and slowly held Peacekeeper out to Jesse, who took it back silently.

 

“Sister...?” Carmina whispered, holding onto her bleeding arm. “...what...in the world…?”

 

“Shut up, Carmina.” Cassandra hissed. “You say you want to pay up? You want to negotiate? Oh bite me! You denied my very existence despite my accomplishments! You basically lied to the Deadlock Gang that I lived!” Cassandra stalked closer to Carmina. “And now you come crawling back to me, pleading for me to come home.”

 

“Well, I just wanted to pay the f-” Cassandra slapped her across the face, earning a cry of pain. 

 

“Go crawl back home and reap what you sow.” Cassandra growled. She held no sympathy to her sibling, wounded by her hand. Carmina stared at her, surprised at how much she changed.

 

“What did Deadlock do to you?”

 

“Nothing. You, Mother, and Father did me wrong. Why are you surprised I won’t play nice?” 

 

“From the way you’re acting, it sounds like they made you their bi-” A gun went off at their feet, sending the two back in surprise. Cassandra glanced back, staring at the smoking Peacekeeper in Jesse’s hand. 

 

“You wanna finish that sentence, Destler? Or you wanna come out of this in pieces?” The leader of the Deadlock Rebels growled. Carmina stared at Jesse, then to Cassandra, before looking back at Jesse.

 

“Does this mean that you will not accept my offer to pay the sixty million?” Carmina asked as Cassandra moved to Jesse’s side. Jesse laughed, setting the gun back in it’s holster and wrapping an arm around Cassandra’s waist possessively. 

 

“What made ya think I’d accept in the first place? You lost your chance after that letter was sent to us denying her existence.” He laughed and waved his hand. “Escort her out boys. Lock the door on the way out.” Two of the Deadlock boys nodded and hooked their arms around hers to drag her out, ignoring her whimpers of pain. The third made sure the door was locked behind him. A few moments of quiet rested in the room, the air thick with the scent of iron and smoke. Jesse suddenly pulled her into his lap, earning a squeak of surprise. He kissed her, sudden and intense, and Cassandra couldn’t help but reciprocate happily. She held the Deadlock jacket tightly around her as he cradled her in his arms. When he pulled back, Cassandra noticed his lustful gaze.

 

“Jesse? What prompted that?” Cassandra asked innocently. 

 

“That was the sexiest thing you’ve done since I’ve met you.” He purred. 

 

“Sexier than laying in bed with nothing but the collar and the jacket?”

 

“Damn right it was.” 

 

“If you want me, can we move to your bedroom? Please?” She batted her eyes at him. 

 

“Well, since ya asked so nicely.” He stood up and carried her back to the bedroom. “We’ll have a grand ole time, my little songbird.” 


End file.
